


What do I stand for (most nights I don't know)

by the wanderer (a_sentimental_man)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), F/M, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, M/M, god pays them a visit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 00:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_sentimental_man/pseuds/the%20wanderer
Summary: It had been ten months since the Apocalypse-that-wasn't.All was well - Aziraphale could finally revel in his feelings for Crowley, could finally breathe again afteryearsof preparing for the inevitable.Until a visit from God threatens to ruin it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 161





	What do I stand for (most nights I don't know)

It had been ten months since the Apocalypse-that-wasn't. 

Aziraphale couldn't help but sigh in relief at the quiet normalcy that had descended upon the vicinity of Soho and everyone in London; compared to the way he had to look behind his back and ensure that the Antichrist wasn't a little demon for 11 years, this was sweet,  _ sweet  _ relief. 

Not to mention the fact that his and Crowley's Arrangement wasn't a secret anymore. 

The doorbell tinkled as a customer let themselves in, and Aziraphale barely restrained himself from furiously crossing to the door and berating them for coming when the shop was closed. 

_ Barely.  _

Because it was Crowley, and well. He was welcome always. 

'My dear,' he said, rising from his table, a smile rising unbidden on his face. 'What can I do for you?'

Crowley shifted from foot to foot as his eyes darted around the bookcases, with a haunted look in his eyes that Aziraphale  _ hated  _ to see. It had been there ever since his bookshop had burnt down, and even if Adam restored it by his more than capable hands - the fear of losing your best friend and their most prized possessions in a single day never went away, either. 

'It's nothing, angel,' Crowley replied, finally taking a seat at the chair which had miraculously appeared, and an almost haunted look in his face as he stared at a copy of  _ The Complete and Accurate Prophecies of Agnus Nutter, Witch.  _ 'Can't someone enjoy his best friend's company?'

Well, they  _ could.  _ And they did. 

It was just that Aziraphale could see the lingering looks Crowley threw at him when he thought Aziraphale wasn't looking, his eyes cataloging whether Aziraphale really was well and whole and something else, something soft and unguarded in his face as he did. 

It was just that he could easily reciprocate these gestures; reminded of Crowley careening through the road in a  _ car in flames  _ to avert the apocalypse, to get back to his best friend's side, one he thought he had lost. 

It was just that even Aziraphale looked at Crowley the same way: he couldn't stop the absolute adoration that lit up his face every time Crowley went into a tangent about Oscar Wilde, Queen, Shakespeare -  _ do you remember when we came up with the Arrangement, angel? Who would have thought it would have turned out this well -  _ and anything? 

But Aziraphale didn't know how to voice these thoughts - his feeling of contentment when Crowley was around, the way his eyes lit up when he was talking about something he was passionate about wanting him to keep that smile remaining on his face forever. 

_ Oh.  _ Aziraphale had realized once, back in a church in 1942.  _ I'm in love with him.  _ And his feelings had only grown deeper from there, the tenterhooks of his heart determined to keep Crowley near his site and mind always and forever. 

And for an immortal being,  _ forever  _ was a long time. 

But Aziraphale voiced none of these thoughts aloud.  **Couldn't ** voice any of these thoughts aloud. 

He just poured some wine for Crowley with his decanter, instead, certain that the sparse lamplight only illuminated the thoughts on his face. 

Crowley didn't comment. 

Aziraphale both wanted him to and didn't - he didn't want to disrupt their friendship that they've worked so hard to maintain, but he so,  _ so  _ wanted to. 

'My dear,' Aziraphale replied, much too fast yet much too slow to encompass the rush of emotions he felt. 

Crowley opened his mouth as if to reply, closing his mouth a minute later in surprise at something behind Aziraphale. 

And as Aziraphale felt the divine energy that was surrounding the apparition, stronger even than an angel at their true form, he couldn't help but gulp with not a little amount of awe. 

'Hello, my dears,' God said, and Her voice was the same he'd remembered from what felt like a lifetime ago in Eden, naïve enough to give his sword away to the first helpless being he saw. 

(But he would still never change his decision even if he could do it all over again - he supposed he was still naïve.) 

Crowley sat up in his chair, his posture taking on a defensive position that Aziraphale was trying very hard not to mimic. 

A lot of things had changed after Apocalypse-that-wasn't. 

_ (sometimes Aziraphale could feel himself wondering whether all of  _ this -  _ angels divorced from their purpose, not even caring for the wreckage they would cause, demons whose job was all too easy because the higher-ups didn't  _ care -  _ was all part of the ineffable plan.) _

_ (sometimes, he felt guilty about wondering - God worked in mysterious ways.) _

_ (but sometimes, when he looked at the haunted look on Crowley's face, the words i-never-meant-to-fall-i-only ever-asked-questions almost etched on his face, he never felt guilty at all.)  _

She smiled at them as if not noticing their rushing thoughts. 

'You might wonder why I'm here,' She continued. 

_ Well,  _ that _ was an understatement.  _

Aziraphale resisted the urge to break out into hysterical laughter.

'Raphael,' God breathed, almost carefully, and Crowley  _ flinched.  _

Aziraphale had wondered who Crowley was before falling, but he had never expected it to be Raphael, an Archangel that rivaled even Michael, one of God's own chosen. 

Crowley's expression had twisted into a look of bitterness and something  **else, ** something sharp and prickly and  _ sad  _ that Aziraphale couldn't quite decipher. 

'Come here to gloat?' Crowley asked, standing up abruptly from his chair. 'The Archangel Raphael reduced to  _ this -  _ all for only  _ ever asking questions -'  _ and there was that look again, that age-old bitterness and regret at never been enough, at never knowing what they did not. 

Punished for something they didn't do. 

'Oh, Raphael,' God sighed, and Aziraphale could  _ feel  _ Her sadness crashing upon him like a tidal wave. 'It was all part of the ineffable plan.' 

'And you think that's supposed to make me feel  _ better?'  _ Crowley hissed, his eyes alight with a spark of anger and betrayal that was 6000 years in the making. 

‘Obviously not,' She said, and She sounded surprised, almost as if She was expecting Crowley to be  **pleased ** at this - pleased at the fact that he was an afterthought, just a cog in the machine of a bigger  _ plan.  _ 'You were the only one capable of retaining goodness in your soul even after becoming a demon. You were the one who stopped the Apocalypse - just because you couldn't bear to let go of the creatures that Angels and Demons see as collateral. My ineffable plan wouldn't have worked out without you, my dear.' 

She smiled, the smile of someone without blame, the condescending smile of a parent who never listened to their child and only ever did what they  **thought ** was best. 

'I did nothing wrong?' Crowley's voice was edged with disbelief, the look in his eyes quickening to something akin rage. 'All this time, when I thought I Fell for asking questions, it was  _ only because it was a part of your ineffable fucking plan???' _

The sheer brokenness of Crowley's voice was hard to bear, and Aziraphale tried to reach out to his hand, to do  _ anything  _ to lessen his best friend's pain. 

'I'm sorry, Crowley,' was all she said before she disappeared as soon as she'd appeared. 

'Crowley,' Aziraphale tried and wondered if he should say  _ Raphael _ instead - but. 

'I'm sorry you had to see that, angel,' Crowley said, trying for his normal flippant tone and failing by a mile. 

'I don't think it was in any of our control, my dear,' Aziraphale said, for lack of anything else to say. 

Crowley laughed wetly, scrubbing a hand over his face as if to wipe years, decades, centuries,  _ millenniums  _ of betrayal away. 

Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to pull him into a hug. 

Crowley's shoulders started shaking, and well. He strode over to Crowley's side and brought his arms around him, marveling at how fragile Crowley was like these, marveling at how Crowley trusted him enough to allow Aziraphale to see him at moments like this. 

Crowley tensed in his arms, relaxing gradually as he realized that Aziraphale wasn't going away. He sobbed, broken, into Aziraphale's shoulder, and Aziraphale could do nothing more than hold him in his arms, hoping,  _ wishing  _ he could do something more to ease millennia of pain and betrayal at the hands of someone pure and good. 

  
  
  


_ 'The thing is,' Crowley said an hour later, the words almost forced out of his thoughts. The wine on their glasses was depleting rapidly with every sentence he said, and Aziraphale couldn't blame either of themselves. 'The thing is, angel.' His eyes rolled back, and Aziraphale should be drunk enough to not feel this much concern over it.  _

_ 'She came to me, gave me an apology and left.' Crowley said, wagging his arms rather comically if it weren't for what was leaving him. 'And  _ ** _left. _ ** _ As if She had the right to ask forgiveness - do you know how many times-'  _

_ 'I know, Crowley,' Aziraphale broke in, and it was true, he  _ did _ . 'I'm sorry, Crowley,' was all he said, recognizing that he couldn't say anything to make him feel better, that the only thing he could do was recognize him as the changed person he was.  _

_ Crowley's answering smile was short, brief and edged with pain, but it was a smile.  _

  
  
  


'I want to go visit Warlock,' Crowley said abruptly, stopping Aziraphale short of his musings. It was the first  _ sentence  _ that Crowley had said in a week - monosyllabic words to everything Aziraphale said, lost in a world that Aziraphale couldn't follow. He hadn't felt this lost since Crowley had told him the Apocalypse was coming, that everything they worked for  _ here;  _ their friendship, would all disappear in a matter of seconds to a predestined, futile war. 

'I'm sorry, my dear?'

'I want to go visit Warlock,' Crowley replied, surer this time. 'It's been a while, hasn't it?'

'It's been a while, Crowley,' Aziraphale replied fondly. 'It's been nearly five years, I'm sure he doesn't even remember us by now.'

'About that,' Crowley said, her eyes suddenly shifty. 'I  _ might  _ have given him my address? And we've been exchanging letters for a while.'

Aziraphale couldn't help it; he laughed. Then: 'In that case, we can, my dear. I’m still not sure if he'll even remember  **me.** '

Crowley stared at him. 'Angel,' her voice reserved for someone who was being deliberately obtuse and Aziraphale couldn't help the happy flutter in his stomach as he realized that Crowley would be all right. ' _ I  _ talk about you. Of  _ course,  _ he remembers you.'

Well then. 

Aziraphale tried and failed, at hiding the gleeful grin that lit up his face, at that. Crowley laughed and slung an arm around his shoulders, and Aziraphale, for one moment, could pretend that they were just two people who were enjoying each other's company with no Romeo-and-Juliet-esque history between them. 

He brought Crowley closer to himself before he could think better of it, winding his arms around her in a comfortable embrace. Crowley only hesitated momentarily before  acquiescing , bringing his mouth down in a featherlight kiss to her cheek. Aziraphale smiled softly at her, ignoring the burning in his cheeks. 

Crowley laughed - an honest, joyous laugh, and it was the best thing in the whole fucking  _ world.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos keep me alive!  
I was thinking of making this into a series, would anyone like that?  
follow me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/taliaskiyoko) or [twitter!](https://www.twitter.com/kiyokozier)  



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